Cruel War (The Gilded Sovereign 1)

“Get her the fuck out of here,” Dad rages like a tyrant.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dahlia tells him. “You kept my father prisoner for three long years, you tortured him, you made sure to break not only his will but his mind. And you expect me to cower because I’m merely a teenager and a woman?” Her voice is filled with the kind of anger and rage I’ve never seen on her before.

She’s fucking exquisite.

My dick agrees when she steps forward with confidence.

Even though I’m in pain, and I can’t move without wincing, she still makes my body react, turning me on like nobody else ever has. I always thought I had power over her, but it’s her who reigns her power over me.

Dad rounds the end of the bed, stalking toward the woman who has burrowed her way into my heart and mind. I want to go to her, to stand between her and the old man, but Philipe shakes his head at me.

He’s got this.

He’s on our side.

“Listen to me, little girl,” Abner Lancaster declares, but he doesn’t know his hold on us is about to be broken. He’s about to go down, and nothing he says can stop it from happening. “I’ll see to it that you’re in the ground with your poor excuse for a father.”

I expect my girl to do something, to slap him, but she only smiles. “You know who a poor excuse for a father is?” She doesn’t wait for him to respond when she continues, “You are. Buying your sons’ love with a seat at an old table that sits in the goddamned basement of a church, doesn’t make you right and it sure as hell doesn’t make you innocent.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You killed people. You had my father mutilated because you can’t stand not being in control.” Dahlia’s normally sweet tone is filled with contempt, and I’ve never been more turned on than seeing her stand up to my father.

His hand shoots out, but before he can make contact with Dahlia’s face, Philipe grips his wrist, their gazes locked on each other—father and son.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” My brother’s words are a warning. He could take our father, he’s undoubtedly strong enough.

“Oh? And you’re on the little bandwagon to have a woman sit at your table?”

“You’re going away for a long time, Dad,” Philipe says. “All those documents from your office, the ones you kept in the safe, are in the hands of the FBI.” The smirk that curls my brother’s lips is pure satisfaction. “You’ll never see the light of day again. And here’s a piece of advice -remember that bending over in prison is a no-no.”

The low, gravelly tone of Abner’s laugh bounces off the walls of the hospital room as he looks at each of us. “You really think you can take me out?” The door slides open, and Etienne walks in. He’s followed by two men in suits who look like the goddamned Men in Black.

“Mr. Lancaster,” one of them says, looking directly at Dad. “We would like a word.” The silence that now fills the space is thick, heavy with anticipation. What will daddy dearest do? Will he attempt to lie his way out of this?

“Of course, my sons will call my lawyer.”

“No need, sir, we already have one waiting for you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like he’ll be much help.”

Dad turns to glare at me. “You won’t get away with this,” he tells me. He believes his lies. He truly thought I couldn’t win this war, but I just did.

34

Dahlia

“Come here,” Ares commands from his bed. It took a week for him to finally come home from the hospital. Even though he’s adamant he doesn’t want to live in the house, we have no choice for now.

My gran has spent more time here looking after him than she has at home. Something tells me she approves of Ares and me. I make my way toward the bed and settle on the mattress next to him.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he tells me as he pulls me into his arms. A small wince of pain scrunches his face. “You’re staying here tonight, I need to get my dick wet.”

“Fuck you,” I bite out, but he chuckles. “It seems like you’re feeling better.”

“I am, and that means I can make you scream my name again and again.” A smirk appears on his handsome face, his full lips tilted in such a way that makes small dimples form in his cheeks.

“You’re far too confident, Mr. Lancaster,” I tell him, attempting to scoot up the bed, so I’m more comfortable in the crook of his arm.

“I have to be, I heard girls like that sort of thing,” he teases, pressing his lips to my forehead. The tips of his fingers draw circles on my arm, forcing goosebumps to rise on my exposed flesh.